Prudence
by MissBukowski
Summary: In the style of VC Andrews. Vera Lyn was given away as a baby. At seventeen, she escapes the abusive home she was sent to, and together with Donovan, her boyfriend and the boy she grew up thinking was her brother, tries to discover the secrets of her past
1. Accident Prone

A/N: I wrote the first paragraph of this fic during a particularly boring economics class. I don't know why, but I liked the way it sounded. I then went on to make it into a VC Andrew's fanfic – not so much about a book of hers, but in her style – because I had become slightly obsessed with her books after my friend Arin introduced me. This fic is intended to be read with a heavy southern twang. The mistakes in grammar and usage are intended and fit with the accent. The fic takes place in a small Alabama town. I'll put links to pictures on my profile for clothes and such from the story.

Disclaimer: It's in the style of VC Andrews but not about any of her characters, so I do own it! Mwahaha…er…cough On with the story.

A/N 2: Should I continue with the story? Please review and tell me what you think. I'd greatly appreciate ideas too...the story takes on a slight paranormal edge later...but I'm up for suggestions. puppy dog eyes Pwease? Oh, and the main character's name isn't directly mentioned in the fic so far. Her name is Vera (long e) Lyn Prudence. The last name doesn't matter until later. Her papa called her Vera, her mother Prudence, her brother Encey, and most other people Vera Lyn. Just to save some confusion.

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I've always been what people refer to as accident prone. Looking at the evidence – being my life – it's not a bad description, but then…well, I've never thought of them as accidents. When I was young, I thought some entity or force like to play tricks on me. As I got older, and the attacks became more violent, I became convinced that it was some evil spirit or demon that was out to get me. I didn't find out until much later why I was the way I was. When I was two, I fell into my neighbor's pool and nearly drowned. When I was six, I fell out of a swing and onto a piece of jagged glass. I still have the scar. At ten I fell out of a tree when the seemingly secure branch I was on broke. When I was thirteen I was bucked from my uncle's horse and broke my leg. I spent weeks in the hospital. My papa used to say it were only due to God's good grace that I survived past five. I've had broken bones, concussions, abrasions, sprains, you name it. When I was seventeen, I even spent nigh on fifteen hours in a grave. That day changed my life forever… 

It happened on one of those cool spring days that could have turned to storm or blistering heat. I was going home from the library for dinner. In those days, the library practically was my home. I decided to take the long way through the cemetery. I loved that cemetery. It was a grand, mystical place with majestic weeping willows and vast gardens and such a variety of tombstones and mausoleums. When I was young I used to sit under a willow and let the branches hide me from the world. On that day, I meandered throughout the gardens and family plots of generations past. In the distance, a crew was leaving the grounds. A freshly dug grave waited in their wake. Behind me, the sky boomed. I turned as the first few warning drops fell. My papa used to call rain sky tears.

When a bolt of lightning streaked across the sky, like an accusatory finger pointing right at me, I turned on my heels and ran. I wasn't afraid of lightning, if anything, storms made me feel alive and free. But I was wearing a new pair of shoes that day, and after ruining my last pair during a thunderstorm, I knew better than to vex my mama by ruining those. As I shot across the cemetery, I imagined what I must have looked like, my long, strawberry hair flowing behind me as I ran like the very hounds of hell pursued me. My mama never let me cut my hair: she said it were the only thing God got right when he made me. I never agreed with her – for surely God can do no wrong – but I let her have her fancy. Even into my teen years, she'd sit me down and brush my long, thick, gleaming locks. I admit it felt wonderful to have her dote on me such. My father, who died when I was eight, loved me more than I could comprehend, but my mama always seemed to hate me.

So there I was, running like a madwoman, when a flash of color and movement stopped me dead. I stood hardly three feet from the freshly dug grave. Over the edge of that abyss was a hand, grasping the grass and loose ground. Suddenly, the hand slipped and fell out of sight. Crying out, I lunged for the grave, knelt by it, and peered inside. It was empty. I had been sure the hand was real…but the day was overcast. It must have been shadow or reflection that my imagination saw as a desperately reaching hand. I tried to convince myself of that. I stood, brushed the dirt from my knees, and turned to go. As I turned to look once more in the open grave, the packed earth under my feet gave way. For a moment, I gained a hold of the side…in the place I had seen the phantom hand. My own fingers slipped, and I fell back, slamming my head on the hard earth.

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A/N 3: This story is written in stream of consciousness, so it switches back and forth in time a lot. I'll try to make it as easy to follow as possible. If anyone gets confused, tell me and I'll try to rectify the problem. As I get more into the story, there will be less flashbacks, but the beginning is riddled with them. 

So did you like it? Hate it? Love it? Want me to trash it? Do tell. (but be nice about it)


	2. Trapped In The Grave

A/N: Here's chapter 2. Slightly longer. We delve deeper into Vera's past in this chapter.

Disclaimer: All characters are mine. I don't think you need a disclaimer for style…and even though it's very VC Andrews-esque, it's a unique style.

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When a fat drop of rain hit my face, I awoke with a start. The fall had knocked me unconscious. I couldn't tell how long I had been out, but as I struggled to stand, my body was stiff and uncooperative. I tried to grab some hold with which to hoist myself free of the grave, but the sides were smooth. I jumped as high as I could but couldn't reach the top of the grave. I've always been short. At seventeen, I was only 5'1''. I know most graves are six feet deep, but this one seemed more like seven or eight. I exhausted myself jumping and grabbing and yelling for help. The rain was falling solidly by the time I gave up. I was drenched completely – my new shoes ruined – when I lowered myself into the rapidly rising mud and wrapped my arms around my knees and cried.

I screamed for my older brother Donovan until my throat croaked its own protest. Donovan wasn't my real brother. We'd known for years. It was easier to refer to him as a brother, though we were closer than any brother and sister could be. I saw it in the way he watched me.

I still remembered the day Mama told me I wasn't her daughter. And, worse, Papa wasn't my real father. She said she was glad a freak like me weren't her flesh and blood. And that she regretted the day Papa took me in. She laughed then and said, "Child, your own parents didn't want you. They were so eager to be rid of you, they paid Charlie and me fifty thousand dollars to take you away."

I cried so much that day. Donovan was such a comfort. He stayed with me and held me close until my sobs became hiccups. He seemed almost happy that I wasn't his real sister. It made me furious at the time. When I noticed him smiling again, I pushed him away and yelled, "You don't want me either, Donovan!"

He looked like he would cry. He pulled me close again, stroked my hair, and whispered, "Now, that's not true, Ency. I love you more than you can imagine. I've thought there was something wrong with me for the longest time. I thought I was vile, a sinner, for loving you the way I do. Now I find we're not related. I can love you this way now, Ency. Ain't no law or commandment telling me not to."

I didn't understand at first. It took me years to understand. It wasn't until I saw him the way he saw me that I did.

I huddled in the corner, my tears adding to the coat of water that covered me. Eventually, the rain moved on, but the cloud cover and thunder remained. I couldn't tell how long I waited. I've never had a very good perception of time. I either fell asleep or passed out, but when I opened my eyes, the clouds were gone and a clean morning light shone on me. I stood slowly, feeling like one big bruise. My head swam and for a moment my vision when black. I tried to jump out again, but I had no strength. I tried calling out, but all I could muster was a pitiful whimper. I knew I had slept through the night. For a moment I quaked in fear. Mama's husband Carl would surely punish me. There was nothing I feared more than his punishments. I sank to the floor. I was too tired to even cry. I closed my eyes and prayed, pleaded for God to help me. I was in holy ground after all, what better place for Him to answer? I was reciting all the prayers I knew when a familiar and surely God-sent voice broke through my reverie.

"Ency? Is that you?"

It was quite an effort to open my eyes, but I did, and I saw the most beautiful thing – my brother kneeling by the grave. His face had the oddest look of extreme worry, relief, and bemusement. I smiled and could feel the caked mud on my cheeks cracking.

"It's me. What took you so long?" My voice sounded so weak.

He laughed and called out to some people I couldn't see. Reverend McKenzie ran to the grave and gasped when he saw me. He knelt also, and I could see him fingering his rosary.

"Thank the Lord, Vera, just thank the Lord your brother found you!" he said in his breathless Irish accent.

"How did you find me?" I asked. I had to whisper – I couldn't do anything more than that.

Donovan suddenly swung his legs over the edge of the grave and jumped down, landing solidly on his feet. He crouched near me and took my face in his hands.

"What on earth happened? When you didn't show up for dinner Carl got pissed. Mom was stoned again, so there was no help from her," he whispered, so the Reverend wouldn't hear. "I've been searching for you since six a.m." I could see the worry in his eyes.

I hugged him. "I'm sorry. I don't know what happened. I was running home when…" I didn't know if I should talk about the hand. It sounded crazy even to me. "I fell."

"Only you would fall randomly into tan open grave," he said. He tried to smile, but it didn't reach his eyes. He put his face closer to mine, only inches away. "You look horrible, Ency," he whispered. As he tried to wipe the mud from my face, he said even quieter, "I swear you'll be the death of me."

Reverend McKenzie interrupted up when he peeked into the grave. Donovan moved away quickly, but didn't release my face. The Reverend said, "I called your mother, Vera." He paused. "Maybe you should clean up and rest in my cottage." He lived behind the church. I frowned at him. "Your mother sounded…" his voice trailed off, and he looked away uncomfortably.

I looked at Donovan, but he wouldn't meet my eyes. He whispered, "She was pretty bad last night. So was…he." His voice hardened when he mentioned Carl.

I shuddered and looked up. "Maybe I will use your cottage, Reverend. Thank you. But first…?"

Donovan stood and picked me up. I was going to protest, but I didn't want to. I felt so safe in his arms. He easily, almost regretfully hoisted me up and McKenzie helped me the rest of the way. He held me up while Donovan easily climbed out of the grave that had imprisoned me. He picked me up again and cradled me against his chest. I was almost asleep when we reached the cottage. My eyes closed and I couldn't open them again, however I didn't fall asleep. I could hear the men talking quietly about me, assuming I was sleeping.

The Reverend said, "I know it's a sore subject, but I don't think you should take her home at all. Today. Well, if I'm being honest, I'd prefer that girl never went back to that house."

I snuggled closer to Donovan. He knew I was awake. He didn't talk to me about our problems at home much. I think he was empowered by the Reverend's comments, however. Or maybe he could finally say it because he couldn't see my face. He spoke more to me than McKenzie.

"Honestly, I don't want to take her back there either. She's constantly in enough danger from herself; today is fine proof of that. She doesn't need to be in that place. I don't think our mother really cares, and neither does Carl, but he'll take any chance he's given to…" He gulped.

I knew he couldn't bear to think of Carl hurting me. When Donovan was home with me, I was safe. Carl would yell at me and say all sorts of vile things about me, but he wouldn't lay a hand on me. I always watched Donovan when Carl yelled at me. He'd sit statue-still, his hands in fists, his jaw clenched, and the muscles in his face and arms twitching in anger. Carl learned the hard way what would happen if he hit me in front of Donovan.

I had tripped in the living room and broken the glass in a picture frame. Donovan was studying in his room, but Carl was watching television. He leapt to his feet when the glass shattered. He pulled me to my feet by my hair and punched my face. Donovan hadn't reacted to the sound of something breaking – that was normal when I was home – but he came running when I cried out in pain. When he saw me on the floor clutching my face, my arms bleeding from falling on the glass, he unleashed a murderous rage on Carl. He didn't hurt him too bad – I think he was afraid Carl would punish me more if he did – but he gripped his arms in an iron vise and shoved him against the wall. I couldn't hear everything he said, but the effect on Carl was immediate. At first, his eyes widened in anger, then in fear. Donovan released his hold on him, swooped me up, and drove me to the hospital. Carl had slapped me around a couple times after that, always when Donovan wasn't home, but never hard enough to leave a bruise. I didn't really blame him for being afraid of Donovan. Don was a head taller than Carl, and much stronger. He confessed once, that after he found me with a black eye when I was eleven, he started working out religiously. He wanted to be ready the next time Carl threatened me.

All the same, there was danger for me at that house. Carl hated me vehemently. Donovan couldn't protect me forever. I was turning eighteen in seven months. It was too long.

Donovan had tried to take me away once, when I was sixteen. I don't know why, but Carl fought to get me back. He got his family to pay for a lawyer – through blackmail no doubt – and threatened Donovan. He took me back, but moved back in with us. Carl wasn't happy, but he allowed it. Don knew he couldn't save me yet, but he said, "I'll be damned if I let you stay in that house without me, Ency."

I loved having Donovan around. He was my rock, my protector, my knight. Even after he confessed his love for me, he was respectful and kind, and he never once tried to force our relationship. He gave me the time I needed to stop thinking of him as a brother and nothing more.

It wasn't long after Donovan moved back in with us that I realized I was in love with him. He always slept on the rocker in my room when Irv came home drunk. I knew he couldn't be very comfortable, so I'd always ask him to sleep on my bed with me – it was a Queen-sized bed and there was plenty of room – but he'd just stare at me for a moment and refuse. One day, I awoke to find him in the chair, covered in a tattered quilt. The loose curls of his dark-brown hair had fallen over his left eye. His lips were slightly parted and his deep breathing was the only sound. He must have sensed me watching him. He opened his eyes and gave a sleepy smile. I swear my heart stopped cold. My breath caught in my throat. It was almost like seeing him for the first time. He understood immediately; he didn't for a second look confused. He swiftly got up and sat by me on the bed. I was transfixed by his face. His eyes searched mine, then roamed my body. It was summer, and I was wearing a revealing tank top and a pair of his boxers. I wasn't at all embarrassed as his gaze lingered on certain places. We didn't touch. He understood that it was too soon for me.

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A/N 2: What do you think? Was it too long? I couldn't really find a good place to separate it. Should I continue?


	3. Showers and Mutiny

A/N: Still needing suggestions. Do you like it? Is it malarkey? Ch 4 isn't done yet. I'm hoping to have it uploaded within a week.

Disclaimer: All characters still belong to me. _Does a happy dance

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I awoke sometime later wrapped in a blanket and cradled in Donovan's arms. He was watching me intently, as I was sure he had been since I fell asleep. I stretched, still stiff but feeling immensely better. I saw the mud on my arms and blushed. The soft, sea green comforter would never be the same. Donovan helped me sit, still on his lap, and I looked around. We were on a couch in what I assumed was the Reverend's cabin.

I looked at Donovan. He seemed tired. He probably hadn't slept all night, and then he had spent all morning searching for me. There was mud on his face, neck, shirt, and arms. I smiled.

"You need a shower," I said, my voice still raspy.

He quirked an eyebrow at me. "Look who's talking."

I blushed. He smiled and easily carried me to the bathroom, where he sat me on the toilet, still bundled in the blanket. He turned the shower on and adjusted the temperature just the way I like it. When the water was hot enough to sooth my weary muscles and scour clean my pores but not hot enough to scald, he helped me stand and tossed the blanket in the corner. He gingerly removed my summer dress, and I stepped out of my shoes. I blushed deeply as I stood before him in my underwear, but he didn't hesitate. He guided me to the shower and helped me step in. He closed the curtain and I removed my filthy undergarments. I tossed them out before stepping into the blessedly warm water.

I sighed in pleasure. I could have easily used up that bar of soap as I cleaned my skin again and again. Donovan talked to me most of the time – making sure I was alright. I washed my hair three times and let it soak in conditioner until the water ran cold. I rinsed off quickly and shot my hand out of the curtain for a towel, which Donovan promptly produced. I dried and stepped out, feeling human again.

"I used all the hot water," I said guiltily.

He smiled and shrugged. "It'll wake me up. I gave Reverend McKenzie some money to buy you new clothes. I didn't want him going to our house and seeing them like that." Again, there was a hard glint in his eyes.

I nodded and stepped toward the door, before turning and smirking. "Sure you don't need me in here waiting for you to fall?"

He quirked an eyebrow. I laughed and left the bathroom, shutting the door quietly behind me. I walked back to the living room, holding onto the wall for support. I found the Reverend there, reading at his desk. He stood as I entered the room.

"My dear, you're up."

I smiled at him. I was embarrassed to be standing before a Reverend in only a towel. He must have sensed my discomfort, because he disappeared for a moment and returned with a plastic bag.

"Your brother insisted I bought you new clothes and not bring some of your own. I didn't know what you might like, but I asked a saleswoman and she was very helpful."

I took the bag and smiled reassuringly. "Anything will due, Reverend. Thank you so much for being so helpful."

His smile was sad as he replied, "Think nothing of it, my child."

I went to the room he pointed out and changed into the peach blouse and navy pleated skirt. There were sandals in the bag as well. The clothes were simple, but light and airy, and they felt wonderful on my skin. I dried my hair as much as I could, donned the shoes, and made my way to the living room again. Donovan was waiting for me. He was wearing his pants and a blue shirt that he borrowed from the Reverend.

I smiled uncertainly at his serious gaze. The Reverend sat across from him, and he turned to look at me. His eyes were grave. I gulped and sat by Don.

McKenzie spoke first. "Vera, I know this will be difficult, but I feel it is my duty to say something. Your brother and I have discussed this, and I think it would be best for you both to stay here. The congregation certainly won't mind, and I gladly welcome the company."

I glanced at Donovan when he paused. He was staring at the floor.

"I don't think that's possible, Reverend. I'd…I'd like to, but Carl, he'd never let me."

McKenzie glanced at Donovan. "I've spoken to the sheriff, Vera. With Donovan's promised testimony, they will have more than enough to incarcerate your Step-father."

I stared at them incredibly. Incarcerate Carl? It would be my dream come true, but he always told us it would never happen. He had friends in all the right places. And the way he blackmailed his family into getting him that lawyer…we believed him.

Donovan finally spoke, his gaze still transfixed by the floor. "Even the most expensive lawyer can't dig him out of this one, Ency. I took pictures. They're in a safety deposit box at the Post Office. That and my testimony are the final nails in his grave. The sheriff already hates him. He's always suspected Carl was a druggie, but he could never prove it. Now he can."

"What about mama?"

He glared at me. "What about her? She won't change when he's gone. She'll be glad to be rid of us."

I knew he meant me. She loved Donovan.

I looked back and forth between the men, unbelieving. How could my life have changed so drastically in so short a time? It was a lot to take in, but…I thought about it. With Carl gone, I would be safe. I could stay in town and graduate. Donovan would stay with me at the Reverend's. For a moment I didn't want to ruin Carl's life by sending him to prison for what I was sure would be a long time, but then I remembered his threats, the beatings. I looked up at Don with a steely resolution in my eyes.

"When?"

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A/N 2: Ooh...yay Vera! Don't you just heart Donovan? I made him up and I just adore him.


	4. Trials and First Dates

A/N: Short chapter, sorry. Wanted to get right to the romance. I'd appreciate any advice and reviews. Oh, and with the school year getting so late, I might only be able to update short chapters. But I'll keep working. I have a big test next week (_gasp) _but…I might just procrastinate and get Ch 5 up.

Disclaimer: This is the last disclaimer. I do own the characters and half the style. I dedicate the other half of the writing style to VC Andrews.

A/N 2: Big thanks to Addie W. for Edward's Uploading Solution.

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Things moved quickly after I agreed to take Carl down. The sheriff was all too happy when Donovan turned over the evidence he'd collected over the years. We were sitting in the sheriff's small office when he opened the first thick envelope like a child on Christmas morning. His smile lingered over the photos of Carl using drugs. He laughed – actually laughed – when he saw one of Carl passed out with a syringe hanging out of his arm. Then his smile faded. He shifted uncomfortably in his chair and glanced up at me. I looked at Donovan. He looked so sad and angry.

He looked at me, his eyes apologetic and pleading, and said, "I took pictures when he'd hurt you. I used them to blackmail him sometimes. It didn't always work. I saved those," he glanced at the photographs in Sheriff Grier's hands and looked back at me, "I saved them for something like this. I knew I'd take him down someday. I wanted to be sure he'd never get out of it."

I leaned forward and snatched the pictures from the sheriff. My eyes went wide as I saw them. They were pictures of me and Donovan. Even some of our mother. I was sleeping in most of the ones he took of me. In every one I was covered in bruises. I gulped. Donovan documented his own injuries, and my breath caught as I saw them. They were horrible. So much worse than what Carl did to me. I shook and a tear escaped my eyes when I saw a picture – a fairly recent one – of him with a huge, nasty bruise on his chest. I remembered when, hardly six months before, Donovan had tensed and clenched his teeth when I hugged him. It wasn't something I did, as I had thought at the time. Carl had broken his ribs. The bastard.

Someone slipped the pictures from my trembling fingers and pulled me into a tight, comforting hug. I wrapped my arms around Don and tucked my face in the hollow of his neck. I breathed deeply to calm down, taking in his beautiful scent. I sighed and straightened, but didn't release my hold on him.

Sheriff Grier looked very uncomfortable, his joviality for the situation gone completely. "I never knew it was that bad, Donovan. If I had, I would've found some way to help you two."

Don shook his head. There was nothing he could have done. The only way for us to be free was to free ourselves. I looked at him and saw the understanding in his eyes. That was exactly what we were doing.

Donovan wanted me to leave town during Carl's trial, but I wanted to stay. There was a media frenzy. We could hardly turn on the news without hearing about Carl, or worse, seeing our pictures behind a pretty anchorwoman as she spoke of our wretched, abusive lives. Mama was the worst to deal with. We didn't intend to, but with all the proof of Carl's wrongdoings came evidence of mama's addictions. They carted her off as well. The trials were almost complete – a guilty sentence all but guaranteed – and Don and I were almost free.

There was a terrifying time when I almost got sent to a foster home. Donovan saved me. He was a legal adult and, as my adoptive brother, was well within his rights to be my guardian. It was strange listening to the judge declare Donovan to be my legal guardian. Don took it in stride, though. I knew he'd take his responsibility very seriously. He was always good at protecting me.

We stayed at the Reverend's cottage since we had no place else to go. He told us to call him Malachi. It was awkward at first, but in time he became like a father to us. He wasn't home much, his duties as Reverend keeping him busy, so Donovan and I spent most of our time alone together.

The night after Carl was sentenced to twenty-five years in prison, Donovan took me out on our first real date. Sure, I thought of him as my boyfriend and had for over a year, but we'd never been out like that. In public. I suppose it was like our coming out as a couple. Not many people knew about us aside from Malachi. Actually, we were sure no one knew. Carl suspected it, if any of the disgusting things he said to us were to be believed, but we didn't know of anyone else who could have guessed. Malachi was very understanding of our relationship. He was concerned at first, after all, it hadn't been long since we told him we weren't really related. But he took it all in stride, and when he noticed how happy we were together, he gave us his blessing.

That night was magical. Donovan wouldn't give me even one little clue. I've always hated surprises, something he knew very well, but he wanted it to be a surprise. He said, "This is our first date, Ency. I have to make a good impression, or you might not want a second." His voice sounded light and joking, but his eyes were serious.

"You silly man," I told him, "you don't have to impress me."

He didn't listen. I awoke that morning to find a gaily wrapped box on the foot of my bed. There was a note on top of it in Don's careful handwriting. _'For you to wear tonight.' _

I smiled and ripped the paper off like a gleeful child. Inside the box was a beautiful gold gown. It was sleeveless and brushed the floor. I noticed the plunging neckline and gasped. It was unlike anything I had ever worn. It was more beautiful than anything I'd ever worn. Beneath the bust line was a rectangle of diamonds. It was spectacular. I looked in the box again and found a pair of shiny, red high heels. Donovan wanted me to wear all this? My brow furrowed. What kind of night was he planning? I was immensely grateful that he hadn't gone and picked out my underwear as well. I looked back in the box, praying for no more surprises, but I saw something that looked like silk. I pulled it out and blushed and gasped in horror and embarrassment.

He _had _gone and picked out my underwear.


	5. Panties?

A/N: Super short chapter. Just wanted a little humor to lighten the mood and delve a bit into Ency and Don's relationship. This is pure fun. I was in a good mood and couldn't resist. Oh, and they got a last name in this chapter. I decided they needed one. My mom suggested the name. I kind of like it. Oh, and thanks so much for everyone's reviews! It makes me so happy to read them. And thanks for the helpful suggestions. Keep them coming!!

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I stalked out of my room and found Donovan in the kitchen cleaning the dishes. I stood behind him silently, my hands on my hips and my lips pursed. He took his time, but he knew I was there. He dried the bowls and placed them in the cupboard before turning to face me with an impish grin on his face. The smile didn't diminish when he saw how angry I was. If anything, it got wider.

"Donovan James Alfonse!" I yelled while holding up the panties. He blushed, but didn't stop smiling that stupid, wolfish, made-me-want-to-smack-him grin. "What on Earth are you doing buying me underwear?"

I paused, looked at the panties, and continued, "Especially these ridiculous lace things!"

At this, his happy demeanor paled a bit. His smile turned embarrassed as he looked at the floor, ceiling, table – anything but me. "I didn't mean to."

What? "How does one 'accidentally' purchase panties, Donovan?"

His face turned scarlet, and he finally looked me in the eye. For about a second, before he gulped and turned away again. I knew he was still in a happy mood, but he was thoroughly mortified, and I was loving it.

"Well, when I was buying the dress – you did like the dress, didn't you? – the saleslady asked me what kind of underwear you'd be wearing."

I blinked. Why on Earth would anyone ask that? "And what did you say?"

He shrugged. "I asked her how I was to know what type of undergarments you wear." He looked at me apologetically before continuing. "She said it was important. If you wore the wrong kind, they'd show through the dress." His eyes got wide. "I sure didn't want that happening."

It was hard to not laugh. Poor Donovan…but what more could I expect from a man? They just had no clue. I sighed. It was true, what the woman had said. And it sure would've been embarrassing to have my panties showing for all the world to see. Then I smiled evilly.

"Donovan, if you wanted me to wear something sexy beneath that dress, you should've just asked."

It was classic. His face went slack, and his eyes got so big that I thought they'd pop right out of his face.

It got better when the Reverend walked in to find me holding a pair of panties in Donovan's face, with Donovan looking like he'd seen a ghost…or thought of his girlfriend/former sister/legal ward in her very see-through underpants.

I couldn't stop the laugh that passed my lips. I covered my mouth as I watched the men try to compose themselves. Malachi walked out of the kitchen casually – too casually – and Donovan smoothed his sweater and looked at me with angry eyes.

"It ain't right, Ency, to say that sort of thing."

I quirked an eyebrow. "You're the one buying me lingerie."

His eyes got big again and I grinned. I turned and walked slowly from the room, swaying my hips. I knew I had won.

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A/N: I wasn't kidding. Really short. Thanks for reading. The date chapter will be posted soon. Hopefully tonight.


	6. Hidden Agendas

A/N: Don't you hate it when people say "soon" and really mean "in a few months or so"? I do. So I feel bad that it took so long for this chapter. But this summer was a mess, then college started, then work. But, this story haunts me. It demands to be finished, and I must comply. There was about a two month lapse in the writing of this chapter, so I hope it's not so very inconsistant. As always, dedicated to the style of VC Andrews, though the characters are mine all mine. Oh, but I don't own Old Spice, I just love the smell of it.

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I took a long shower and put my hair in curlers before dressing for our date. I smiled as I thought about it. I was completely nervous – it was to be my very first date – but I couldn't tell if it was nerves or excitement that made my hands shake as I put on the ridiculous undergarment Donovan bought me.

I realized quickly that it would be impossible to wear a bra with that dress. The neck was just too low. I slipped the gown over my head and stood in front of the mirror.

My eyes got wide when I saw my reflection. The gold silk of the dress made my hair, still in curlers, seem to shine under the simple light, and it complimented my skin tone – fair and creamy – perfectly.

I thought I looked beautiful, and I wasn't at all ashamed for thinking so.

I was, however, a little ashamed when I noticed that, while I didn't need a bra for support, it was obvious that I wasn't wearing one.

I sighed. There wasn't much I could do about it. But then, did I want to?

My relationship with Donovan was completely full of love, but it was slightly lacking in one aspect. We kissed, though not much, and we never did anything more than that.

Donovan was almost twenty-years-old. A man already. And I was only seventeen, but I was a woman. I wasn't ashamed – too ashamed – to admit to myself that there was more I wanted to do with Donovan than just kiss. Maybe by wearing this dress, I could make him feel that way as well.

I slipped on the heels. They weren't stilettos with no support; they had thick heels just two-inches high, and extra support around the ankle. They were shoes I was less likely to fall in. Though, it might happen. I made a mental note to cling to Donovan when we walked. I knew he wouldn't mind.

I took the curlers out of my hair and finger-combed it until it hung perfectly over my shoulders. I took a deep breath, steadying myself, and walked out to the living room. Donovan was there, waiting for me.

He was silent for several heartbeats. I froze. I could hardly meet his eyes. There was a look there that made my chest tight. It was a hungry and undeniably manly look. I gulped and was saved when Malachi entered the room.

"Why, Vera Lyn, aren't you beautiful tonight!" he exclaimed.

I blushed and smiled at him. In the time we'd had spent in the cottage with Malachi, he'd become like a father to us. He reminded me so much of Charlie. After years living under Carl's tyranny, I'd almost forgotten what it was like to have a dad. I'd never forget Charlie or love him any less, but the Reverend had his own place in my heart.

"Doesn't she?" Donovan whispered. I turned back to him. His eyes were more restrained, but there was still a hint of that longing. I shuddered to think it, but I had seen the desire written plainly on his face. I wasn't quite scared at the notion, but my heart raced, and I had to fight to keep my voice under control when I answered, "I feel a bit ridiculous in this gown. But I'm not too humble to admit it compliments me."

He laughed at that and walked swiftly towards me. I expected him to hug me, but he stopped a step away and bowed, taking my hand in his and bringing it to his lips. I couldn't help but smile.

He kept my hand in his as he walked backwards towards the door. I could tell he had eyes only for me and my smile grew wider. Yes, I was thrilled to know that my attempt at seduction was working.

We called our goodbyes to Malachi before closing the door. As soon as the latch caught, I was caught in a tight hug. Donovan wrapped his arms around me, pressing my body into his. I squeezed his waist and smiled into his chest. I felt so safe. So at home.

I closed my eyes and breathed deeply, memorizing his scent. Donovan wore Old Spice cologne, and the smell wrapped around me like a blanket. I was completely relaxed in his arms when I felt something against my lower stomach. He pulled back abruptly, and I stared up at him with wide eyes. I wasn't naïve enough to not understand. He blushed and smiled before turning away and walking down the steps. I was forced to hurry to keep up with him, but I momentarily forgot I was wearing high heels. He caught me before I hit the ground.

As soon as he righted me, I started to laugh. He followed. It was a quiet laugh, laced with nerves.

"I almost bought you flat shoes, but I thought for one night you might be able to walk without falling."

I stared indignantly into his bright eyes and said, "You bought these as an excuse for me to hang on you all night."

His smile did not diminish as he wrapped an arm around my waist and led me to the waiting car. He'd bought the "clunker," as he called it, from an old school friend. It was old and rusty, but it ran, and he didn't seem ashamed to drive it. We'd never had very nice things, and he'd bought it with money he worked to earn.

We drove in silence for a few blocks, before I turned to him and said, "Where are you taking me?"

He smiled and said nothing.

"Damn you, Donovan! You know I hate surprises."

Still, he said nothing, that infuriating little smile plastered on his face. I knew he wouldn't talk. I might as well accept it; after all, he wasn't they only one with a surprise tonight.

"Fine. But I'll get you back this, Donovan Alfonse. Just you wait and see!"

My voice lacked the menace I had intended. He frowned at me then, as if suspecting that I was up to something. I turned away from him quickly. He always was good at reading my eyes.

* * *

A/N: Second to honeysuckles, Old Spice is my favorite spell. Anyway, thanks for reading. Sorry for the huge time gap. I'll try to update again soon.


	7. So Wonderful

AN: I'm not quite happy with this chapter. I may remove and revise, since it is such a pivotal moment in the story. Young readers beware, mature themes ahead.

* * *

When we were close to our destination, he pulled over and placed a silk blindfold over my eyes. I was so nervous my hands were shaking. Eventually he pulled over again, walked around, and helped me out of the car. He led me quite a ways. I could tell we were walking on cement, but I had no clue where we were. It was quiet, and the night air was still warm.

Instead of warning me about a step, Donovan simply picked me up.

"Hey! What's going on?" I cried.

He didn't answer. He just laughed. I tightened my grip around his neck. Actually, being carried by him wasn't so bad.

Finally he set me down gently. Standing behind me, he untied the blindfold. When it fell from my eyes, I gasped. We were in a park on the outskirts of town. In front of us was a picnic table, covered with a red tablecloth. There were several short candles in the center of it.

Donovan lit the candles with matches from his pocket, then pulled a cooler from under the table. He made me sit while he set the table and served dinner – grilled chicken and watermelon for me, steak and mashed potatoes for him.

Before he sat, he placed a napkin in my lap and kissed my cheek. My eyes went wide. He sat across from me and blushed when he noticed my stare.

"Well? Aren't I allowed to kiss you?" he said.

"Not if that's the only place you'll kiss."

At that his eyes went wide and his blush deepened. I couldn't help but grin.

"Come on now, I made you this nice dinner and all you can do is tease me?"

I looked at the table. It was a nice dinner. "Surely a fancy restaurant couldn't have done better, Donovan. But I have to tease you, seeing as you do so little teasing of me."

He coughed and glared at me. I smiled and said nothing. I cut into the chicken. It was wonderful. When I told him so, he smiled proudly and cut into his own steak.

The meal – the entire night, really – was so beautiful. When the food was gone, Donovan laid a blanket on the grass, and led me to lay beside him. I rested my head on his shoulder and sighed.

"What's the matter?" he asked nervously.

I smiled and replied, "Nothing at all."

Before I could lose my nerve, I sat and took a deep breath. He sat as well and looked at me, the question in his eyes.

I rose on my knees and turned toward him, taking his face in mine.

"Donovan Alfonse, I love you like no other."

He smiled, relief showing plainly in his eyes. "I could never tell you how much I love you."

"I know," I whispered. "But you could show me."

He shifted back nervously. "Now, Ency, I don't think we should –"

I silenced him with my lips on his. He was startled at first. I had never kissed him before. I had kissed him back, but I was always too shy to make the first move.

He placed his hands on my shoulders, and I moved them to my waist. While his attention was otherwise occupied, I deftly unzipped the dress and began sliding it down my arms.

He noticed before I was ready, and held up the dress. With a scowl, he said harshly, "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

I gasped. He looked so angry. I didn't know what to think. Had I been wrong? Did he not want this? Did he not love me like I thought he did?

When he saw me cry, his eyes softened. He righted the dress on my shoulders and hugged me. "I didn't mean to make you cry, Ency, but really. What were you thinking?"

That he loved me. That he wanted me. But I couldn't say it. I buried my face in my hands.

"Ency?"

I couldn't answer. I was mortified, heartbroken, and dying inside. He had rejected me.

He pulled away and forced me to look at him. "Ency, you know I love you. But this…you're so young. If I rush you now, you might never forgive me."

The fog over my mind was clearing. "But I made the first move. You weren't rushing me."

He shook his head. "You see it that way now. But later you might hate me for taking advantage of you."

The despondency I felt was quickly replaced with ire. "Do you think I can't make my own decisions, Don? That I can't decide when I'm ready?"

"Now, that's not what I meant at all, Ency."

I pushed away from him. "Yes! Yes, it is." Before he could respond or stop me, I pushed the dress down, revealing myself to him. His hands shook, and he tried not to look. "Just look at me, Donovan! I'm not a child anymore. I love you. I want you. How can you tell me I'll regret this, when it is the one thing I want most in this world? To just be with you and only you forever."

He was silent for several moment. Finally, he moved closer to me and pulled me into an embrace. "Have I been so stupid?"

"Honestly? Yes."

He laughed. I shivered when his warm hands caressed my naked back.

"I do love you, Ency. I love you so much I'd wait for you forever."

I pulled back to look at him. "That's just it. You don't have to wait. I'm right here. I'm yours. Body, mind, and soul, I'm yours."

He kissed me again and pulled me down to lay beside him. His fingers were soft and hesitant as they explored my skin. He was so gentle, holding me through the initial pain and the different, exquisite pain that followed.

We laid beneath the stars all night and drove back to Malachi's when the sun's first rays breached the sky.

He carried me to my room and set me gently on the bed. He sat beside me and caressed my hair. When he stood to leave, I grasped his hand.

"Don't go."

He smiled. "You need to sleep. So do I." He kissed me once more before leaving, closing the door softly behind him.

For several minutes I stared up at the ceiling, thinking of staring up at him. Finally, my eyes could stay open no longer. They closed, and I slept. And I dreamed so wonderful a dream.


	8. Doppleganger? Not a Chapter

Sorry folks, this is not a chapter.

When I logged on here after a rather long hiatus, I was surprised to see the category change to this fic, especially because I've never heard of the Dollanganger Saga. I thought it said Doppleganger Saga. Then I realized this must be the series that has the character that so resembles my Vera Lynn Prudence.

I don't want there to be further confusion, so pretty soon I'll be moving it to fictionpress; my user name there is SisterRosetta.


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